


god has always been an arsonist

by ultraviolence



Series: burned / about to burn / still on fire [3]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Daddy Kink, F/M, Fade to Black, Fluff and Smut, Pet Names, Restraints, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 15:11:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10642446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultraviolence/pseuds/ultraviolence
Summary: "She loved a challenge, and he knows it all too well by now." // Studying, and the distractions that comes with it. Modern AU.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Welp. This took me so long to write because I got stuck, then hit with a writer's block, sort of. I've also been distracted a lot. Title shamelessly taken from [here](http://advancedweaponry.co.vu/post/157232376754/god-has-always-been-an-arsonist-heaven-has-always). Enjoy!

" _Heaven has always been on fire_." - Andrea Gibson

 

Jyn dreamed, a collection of abyssal images excavated from the depths of her soul.

It was her mother who taught her about the notion of _soul_ , but her father who best embodies it. In her dreams, she was eight again, in the party full of strangers. She saw him then, a glimpse, a stolen secret, gleaming amongst the other inhabitants. She thought she understood the concept of fire then, of something sacred and treacherous made flesh. Then the landscape changed, into family dinners, the conversations she overheard in her room. Years without him, stretching like an empty field, a silver box left yawning on the floor.

Her last dream was something else—she thought she heard fire, a different kind of fire, the sound of unfamiliar weapons and voices shouting, overlapping, trying to be heard above all the din of the noise. It makes zero sense. She thought she saw stars, but she could be wrong.

Someone shook her awake, very gently, and she felt herself flowing towards consciousness, waking up with a start. 

A familiar hand. A familiar voice. 

“Jyn,” the owner of the voice said, still shaking her, a hand on her shoulder, this time a bit rougher than the last time. “You fell asleep.”

It wasn’t a statement that was made to lampshade what she’d been doing, coming from Orson Krennic. It was simply _the_ fact. She frowned at him, reflexively, still feeling groggy, promptly realising that she’d fallen asleep on one of her engineering textbooks. She yawned, had never really felt ashamed about that sort of thing.

“I thought I’d lost you there,” he told her, wryly, and she felt a small smile forming on her lips.

“No, no, I was simply _studying_ ,” she shot back, giving him a mischievous look. “Since that’s what you told me _I_ should be _doing._ ”

“I left you for a bit and you fell asleep,” he pointed out, and Jyn felt his fingers threading the messy strands of her dark hair. She rather liked it, and she immediately forgot that he was chiding her. “That doesn’t sound like studying to me.”

“Hmmm,” she hummed in response, furrowing her brow, trying to remember something. Something important. But she can’t quite remember it. “I had a dream,” Jyn told him, sitting up a little straighter. She was conspicuously sitting on her father’s chair, behind his desk, in his study. She thought that it was only appropriate, since he and her mother left for another scientific/expedition trip on such a short notice. 

“You had finals in a couple of weeks’ time,” Krennic pointed out, ever the voice of reason. His touch was strangely gentle, soothing, and she liked it when he played with her hair (a rather rare occurrence). He was rearranging her messy locks into some sort of an obscure pattern, tracing circles. “I wouldn’t be thinking about dreams, if I were you.”

“Aren’t you going to ask me what it is about?” she said, smiling mysteriously at him. He shot her a questioning look, but played along.

“What is it about?”

“You,” Jyn said, with a wide smile that’s only growing wider at his slightly flustered expression that only lasts for about 0,1 seconds. He frowned, actually _frowned_ , and she laughed. “And something else. I can’t remember. A battle or something.”

He cocked his head to a side, his thinking look, and Jyn was a little taken by surprise when he tilted her chin up, and kissed her. She melted into it gladly, shaking off the grogginess and the strange feeling caused by the last dream. It always ended too soon. 

“The only battle you’d be losing is your finals if this continues,” Krennic told her, pulling away, actually jabbing a finger in her direction. She resisted the desire to pull him back _in_. She affected a rebellious look.

“Who cares? It’s just finals.” She half-grinned, might as well be saying _fuck the establishment_ to his face. He’d moved away to another side of the room, standing beside a bookshelf—her father’s bookshelf—tilting his head slightly towards her. From that angle, he looked both imperious and elegant, a long-dead admiral from one of her high school history books, coming to life. 

Jyn, very carefully, kept her grin, and lifted one, no, both of her legs up the desk. She thought she could see him twitch, very slightly, and she put both her arms behind her head, leaning back, stretching lightly. 

“If I don’t graduate, I’ll just be a stripper or something,” Jyn continued, viewing his silence as an opening.

“If you _don’t_ graduate,” Krennic snapped back, his perfect Coruscanti accent slipping slightly, taking the bait, “your parents would be _very_ disappointed in you. And we both know you’ll make a bad stripper.”

She watched him, moving fluidly across the room, maybe a fragment from her dreams. “Bad? Why? I think I’ll make a _very_ good stripper.”

She loves lazily teasing him like this, really quite enjoying watching him squirm as he tried his very best to rein in his rampant inner wildfire. In all fairness, he did the same thing to her pretty often. Jyn considered it _justice_.

“Did I say bad? I mean _terrible_.” She thought she could a ghost of a smile on his angular features, thought she caught a glimpse of his undercurrents. “Really terrible. I really wouldn’t bother.”

Oh, he was _definitely_ pulling her leg now, and Jyn intended to give Krennic his money’s worth. She grinned at him, slyly now, dragging a finger down her collarbone, toying with her buttons. He was watching her carefully, and she liked his attention. “Really now?” She carries on, undoing her topmost button. She thought she could see him swallow, visibly. “Am I still a _bad_ one now? Do you need a _demonstration_?”

Krennic absolutely looked like he wasn’t quite sure sure how to react, and Jyn reined in an explosive laugh. She prepared to drop her punchline, and dived in right away. 

“Did I disappoint you too, Director?”

Mentally, she was positively howling with laughter, although it turns her on (she had to admit). It was just as well. The look on his face was pretty damned priceless, and Jyn considered it payback for last weekend. She really quite hated his bad and not-so-subtle innuendoes. She had to avenge herself at some point.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, he was quick to compose himself, and crossed the room in rough but graceful steps, stopping in front of her. He leaned forward, pushing her legs aside, two calloused fingers finding her chin. Jyn unconsciously sucked a breath in, holding it, anticipating.

“Not yet,” he told her, softly, both a threat and a promise. Dangerous and forgiving at the same time. Jyn goes in for a kiss, very much intending to steal one from him from right under his nose. She was met with his fingers on her lips and a firm yet gentle push, stopping her midway. She could feel frustration building up inside of her, a dark chasm opening, but also a _thrill_. 

She loved a challenge, and he knows it all too well by now.

“Not _now_ , Jyn Erso,” Krennic proclaimed, a vicious smile playing on his lips. _The bastard_. Jyn was straining, wanting very much to punch him hard in the face, maybe putting a dent on his annoying jawline. “You have to earn it. _Study_ first.”

It would have been much hotter if he didn’t mention about studying in the same sentence, which she accidentally said out loud, to his great amusement (and scoff). He pulled back, already slipping back into his pristine shell, and Jyn felt disappointed, felt a part of her recoiling and reaching out, _don’t go don’t go don’t go don’t stop_ —

It grows into a familiar burning _need_. She watched him go, retreating, etching every part of him in her memory.

“You have to study if you want to pass your finals, little rebel.” He then continued, already sliding back to the other side of the room—a _slippery_ bastard—taking out maybe one, two, or even three books, seemingly on random. Jyn wondered if her father had authorised him to do that before he left. Jyn wondered about a great many things when it comes to Orson Krennic. “Rebelling doesn’t really pay your bills.”

She observed him observing _her_ , with now perhaps four books on his hands, all her father’s, and after some amount of silence, Jyn grudgingly took her legs down from the desk. Dusted her abused textbook for a bit. 

“Fine. I’ll _finish_ studying,” her tone was equally as grudging, every bit as juvenile as he expected her to be. Krennic gave her a slow, approving smile—Jyn’s heart did a little weird tap dancing, and the hunger burns a little harder—to which she responded with a savage grin and a middle finger expertly aimed his way. “Then I’ll fuck you raw. You better make good on your promise, _Director_.”

He seemed very much amused, and very much at a loss of words. 

“Aim high,” he responded, after a certain amount of silence—she let him—teasingly, nonplussed. He sat himself on an armchair at the far corner of her room, Lyra’s favourite spot to transcribe Galen’s notes. Jyn was absolutely sure that he did it on _purpose_. “I’ll wait.”

She thought she saw a glint on his startlingly blue eyes (summer sky, the sea on Scarif which she saw on television once, _dreams…_ ), a glint that mirrored hers. He, too, loved a challenge. He, too, lived for them.

“Don’t die,” she mumbled in return, a low jab, and started squinting at the equations she was supposed to understand, and did in fact understand.

Time passed.

* * *

Their coupling had been as rough as she’d promised, him pressed against her father’s desk, her riding him like a nightmare, a vision of the apocalypse as a girl, a young woman, his perfect designer suit (that he still wore even during his day off, _especially_ during his day off, she noted) crumpled and tainted and finally transformed into a heap on the floor along with her own ratty jeans and t-shirt. Jyn had been the one pressed to the desk when it started (her textbooks were there along with her father’s formerly neatly-arranged papers, and her coffee mug, oh god, her _coffee mug_ ), until she grinned her lovely, monstrous grin, and masterfully took Krennic off-guard long enough with a well-placed kiss to push him aside and reverse their position. He wasn’t a very graceful loser, and he’d been defiant until the very end, but when he comes, it was her name on his lips, like a prayer from a long-dead religion. 

It awakened something terrible in Jyn, something that had been slumbering in the depths of its cave until Orson Krennic came along. They both tried to recapture their respective breaths afterwards, the one they had lost the moment she had first kissed him in her car, witnessed by the red, dying sun, and Jyn allowed herself a moment of silence.

The room was heavy with the scent of sex, in the hazy aftermath, and Jyn imagined she could smell smoke, too—a fire that had started burning the first time she saw him as a little girl, rekindled when she’d spent time with him during that stupid driving lesson her parents had arranged for her, and turned into a forest fire when she first had him in her car, a year before. 

She imagined that fire slowly consuming the study, flames devouring both of them.

“I want to try something different,” Jyn told him, spontaneously, with her signature grin. Krennic was perched on the sofa—this time her father’s beloved piece of furniture in the room, one that she often caught Galen slept on when he’s having his late nights, and there were many of them—barely dressed, his trousers still half-undone, his shirt hanging on his wiry frame unbuttoned, smoking.

“That’s not something you hear everyday,” he remarked dryly, completely unselfconscious, even as Jyn not-so-subtly took in his tousled, barely dressed state. She took the time to strode across the room to where her clothes lie—completely naked and didn’t make any attempt to hide it—and the rest of his, and rummaged in it for a bit, fully aware that Krennic’s attention was on her, and it sent shivers down her spine.

She returned, brandishing his belt, a slow, sly, seductive smile playing on her lips. He shifted slightly on his seat, readjusting his cigarette, leaning forward ever so casually. She’d commanded the full force of his attention.

“It seems like Daddy’s going to be in a bit of a bind.” She proclaimed, teasingly, closing the distance between them, fully savouring the way his bright, unrelenting eyes took her in, her magnetic north, the force of them pulling her in. 

She was in the eye of the storm now, and she—slowly, very casually—took the unfinished cigarette from his hand, while his hands found her waist, gripping them, pulling her into his storm. She took a drag of his cigarette while he languidly kissed her shoulder, lips moving slowly towards her breasts, and Jyn laughed. 

“Only for you,” Krennic says, as she strapped his own belt around his wrists. She was sitting on his lap now, straddling him, pushing him back. “I like it when you call me Daddy.”

Jyn gave him a long, slow kiss, her hands going to his hips, pulling him closer. Always ever closer, burning together. 

“Then Daddy better make his little rebel _happy_ ,” she told him, and let him kissed her raw, their hunger for vicious things devouring each other.

* * *

After, they smoked together, a ritual, bodies entwined together on the couch—still her father’s favourite couch, she seemed to remember, vaguely, as if from another life—his wrists bruised from the leather belt (Jyn discovered two things that delighted her from this session: one, Krennic bruised easily, and two: he matched her blow by blow in terms of defiance), and her lips raw from all the kissing and licking and biting and worshiping. She was currently wearing his shirt, stolen after she unbuckled the belt from his wrists, and it hung loose from her slender, girlish frame like a white cape, or an apparition.

She was humming their favourite song, the song that brought them together a couple of years back, and she felt contented. Happy.

“You don’t seem like someone who’s going to fail her exams,” Krennic said, her human-shaped pillow for the moment, lines rough in the dissipating light.

“Hey,” she told him, snatching his cigarette and taking a long drag from it despite having her own, and returned it to his fingers, “cut it out. I’m going to pass. I studied earlier.”

He smiled, one of those rare smiles that Jyn liked so much, and took a long drag of his own, watching the smoke joined hers. “It don’t seem to me like you studied enough, little rebel.”

“You’re the genius,” she said, snuggling closer, his fingers threading her dark hair now. It makes her feel drowsy. It makes her feel as if she could take on anything in the world. “You teach me. You did teach me a lot of things,” she added, turning around just so she could press a soft kiss to his lips, “you’re the one who influenced me to take engineering.” Jyn grinned, straddling him. “And you can definitely teach me a lot of other stuff.”

“I do have something in mind for you,” he told her, cupping her face with his free hand and pulling her down for a long kiss. “But it’s not academic. Academia is a drag, isn’t it?”

“That why you choose to work for the government?” She smirked, fingers absentmindedly tracing the marks she left, quite conspicuously, on his neck. She had quite similar ones on her own. She liked getting even with him. “Never tell my father that. But I still wonder about it, Orson.”

“Galen’s a difficult one,” he said, pressing kisses on her lips, nose, and cheek. “I’ve tried talking to him. I never could understand him.”

“And what about me?” Jyn asked, grinning, greedily kissing his neck. She could feel him going hard, again, and she liked it. She couldn’t think of a better way to spend the rest of the afternoon.

“You’re fire, Jyn Erso,” he told her, a surprisingly honest confession, his legs wrapped around her, pulling her in. “And I liked you.”

She needed that. More than anyone else, she needed to hear that from him, to know that he’s not keeping her around just because her father was his oldest and closest friend, or because she was another willing warm body he can fuck. Jyn kissed him, hard enough to leave them both breathless, biting enough to let Krennic know that she means it. He pulled her in for another kiss, and something from her dream flashed back in her mind, something about gunfire and smoke and loss.

And stars. She let him kissed her, long and sweet, her lightning storm, and she pulled back, the words already escaping her mouth before she could realise it or even understand what it means.

“I’m so glad I didn’t lose you, Orson.”

He smiled at her in return, sweetly, like he understood _exactly_ what she means, like he’s been there in her last dream. _He was_ , she suddenly knew, not quite sure how or why, but he was. 

“It’s not happening yet,” he says, body pressed against her, afternoon light falling through the curtains. “You’re going to have to try harder if you want to get rid of me, Jyn.”

“Don’t be so proud of yourself just yet, Director,” she growled at him, giving his bottom lip a hard nip, but she laughed afterwards.

Then the fire consumed them, and she forgot about her dreams, their past, and her fear of losing him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So that wraps up this series, which I never planned to be a series, although I still have like one drabble in mind for them. Maybe. I have way too many things to write in my to-do list. Anyways, I'm sorry this is so short, but comments & suggestions welcome, as usual. Thanks for reading, [hmu](http://advancedweaponry.co.vu) on Tumblr if you want.


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